somehow, i've fallen in love
by laurelsalexis
Summary: For all the wrong moves he made with the war marrying Margaery Tyrell isn't one of them.


**Prompt:** "You won't drive me away. I'm not going to leave you or abandon you."

* * *

The war weighs heavily upon Robb's shoulder as it has since he's started fighting it. How he wishes he and his men could return North, to be free from the ugliness, to be able to sleep and bathe, eat as they wish, and for their families to be reunited. He wishes so desperately to be able to give that to them but the fear is steady within him, worried that he may never actually lay eyes upon either of his sisters again, worried that they will die fighting. He's already lost being able to see his father again. What is to say the Gods won't continue to punish them?

It's unfair to blame the Gods, Old and New alike, but in his moments of desperation he cannot help but blame them. Otherwise he blames himself for not being the man that he should be. What would his father say if he saw him there? Making messes and confusing things where he shouldn't. After a moment he decides it's best to not think of what his father would say since he'll simply never know.

Ned Stark lost his head for being a traitor and the only way he can undo that little title is to have Joffrey's head on a spike for all to see. No matter how far away that seems, which is truly seems as if he'll only manage to reach it in another lifetime. His will is weakening but as his mother said when they all began the journey…if he fails his sisters die. He'll never allow that to happen.

Still, he prefers to sit in silence as he looks over maps in one of the rooms, able to see the river through the window. It helps him little, brings him even less comfort. Everything seems so muddled there's little that brings him comfort. He let's out a frustrated sigh as he wishes to throw the maps across the room, mocking him in one way or another.

It's not about the plan. With the Tyrell forces he has more men than before, enough men to crush the Lannisters, to do what they set out to do. He just has to go about it the right way over sending too many men to his death. The last thing he needs is to make a series of foolish moves that sends them all to their deaths. He's worrying too much for his own good, placing too much on the possibilities that they will simply not be able to get out of the messes made, over using his mind and following his gut. Too many anxious feelings running through him to use logical thought.

He barely hears her enter. It's Margaery from the way Grey Wind doesn't bother to move, how she moves so quietly, and as she nears the scent of her bringing a sense of ease over him. She's not the woman he is supposed to be married to, but somehow, it happened anyway. Somehow like he wasn't there to sense the budding attraction with her, as if they didn't make the decision between of them, and as if both the Starks and Tyrells didn't knowingly piss of the Freys to which they will neither likely gain true forgiveness. For all the wrong moves he made with the war marrying Margaery Tyrell isn't one of them.

"You won't drive me away. I'm not going to leave you or abandon you." She whispers as her chin rests upon his shoulder, her arm coming around his torso.

"If this is about my what men said I have spoken to them."

"Your men do not concern me."

He tries not to scoff, but ultimately fails. It's impossible that _Margaery Tyrell_ of all women in the world cares not about one may think. "I doubt that, my Queen."

"If I may…"

"You never have to ask." He turns his head just enough so he can see her, albeit barely, out of the corner of his eye.

"In due time your men will come to trust me. I am not foolish enough to think our union is enough to deter their preconceived notions of my family. As long as you know I will not leave you, no matter what, that's enough for me, my king. For now."

Robb turns in her arms so that he can look at her. Sweet, beautiful Margaery with her thorns tucked away for the moment. She's fierce in a way he only seems to love her more for, but the moment, she's playing the dutiful rose. His hand rises to tuck her hair behind her ear, fingers brushing against her cheek. She's one of the few things he never views as a mistake, thoughts far more kind. They are the most formidable force within Westeros, no matter what Tywin Lannister may think of himself.

"I know." Was all he said, leaning his forehead against her own. "Sometimes I think you're all I have left."

Grey Wind whined and picked up his head, which earned a smile from both of them.

"I believe he disagrees."

"Aye," Robb lets out a laugh, "Everything is so…" He doesn't even know.

"War takes it toll, but if I may be so bold to say we are winning."

"Nothing is won until I have both my sister's back safely and Joffrey Baratheon's head is a on spike."

"All in due time, my sweet."

He's reluctant to agree, but knows their alliance makes things look better than they have in quite a while. "All in due time." A time he wishes would come faster rather than later. "About my men.."

"I have brothers and have been in a war camp before, she states as her hand reaches for his own, "I know things are spoken."

"It doesn't make them right. You're their queen and calling you a whore looking for a crown is not something they should be speaking regardless of your family ties."

"Once I give you a son and an heir they'll have a change of heart."

"You're being far too kind when I know you better than that."

"The men of the North follow strength and honor your Stark name. They see the Tyrells as those who sided with the crown during Robert's Rebellion that resulted in the death of Lyanna, Brandon, and Rickard. I do not believe any of my whiles could possibly get them to change their mind. Instead," she whispers, finding herself impossible close to him, "I'll need to earn their respect another way. Through time, proving that the crown is hardly the only reason I would ever think to marry their chosen king."

"And what are those other reasons?"

"Kiss me and maybe I'll share."

"Your grace," one of the men placed on his guard as a favor to the Tyrells speaks, nearly out of breath, "I didn't mean to interrupt. There is a girl at the gate who says she is Arya Stark."

Perhaps it's foolish to simply accept the words as truth, but it's far too late when he's smiling. "Have you alerted my mother?"

"I was instructed by Lady Mormont to come straight to you."

"Find my mother." He orders sternly and thinks, for a split second, perhaps Margaery is right about their course of victory.

"Of course, your grace."

Robb grabs Margaery and kisses her, unable to resist. "I love you."

"As I love you." She smiles, looking up at him with a smile of her own. "Let us not dolly. I am eager to meet Arya Stark and see if she does live up to your tales."

"You have no idea."


End file.
